Family Jewels

Warning: this article uses the word "testicles." Are you
giggling? Grow up. Get used to it. Testicles. Testicles. Testicles.
There. Over it? Good.

Penis.

Ha ha, just kidding. Not going to say Penis.

Perhaps you're wondering about my qualifications to write
this. I'm not a doctor, no, but I do have first hand experience. You
see, unlike half the writers out there, I have balls, and I think it
takes a real man to admit that.

Most popular references to testicles involve harsh contact
with a foot, or a baseball, and you may have wondered why they're
hanging out there in harm's way in the first place. Anyone who's ever
been kicked in the old landmines would much rather see them installed
safely behind the ribcage, but as it turns out, they're dangling below
because sperm production requires a temperature a bit lower than that of
the rest of the body.

To maintain ideal temperatures, special muscles raise and
lower the landing gear as required. When it's warm, the 'nads drop down a
couple inches and swing like wind chimes. When entering cold water,
they pull up so fast and far it seems like a plunger may be required to
get them back again. Look at those old group photos of the nudist camp
vacation, and you can probably guess the temperature.

From an engineering perspective, it all sounds like a fancy
fix to a problem that should have been addressed early in the design
phase.

For the record, getting whacked down there does in fact
hurt. A lot. It's used as humor in movies, but in real life it's pretty
hard to laugh, even when it happens to somebody else. I remember once in
seventh grade, just before lunch, the whole school became aware of an
injury that happened near the gym. There were all these pipes set
vertically in the concrete, about three feet high, to keep cars out of
the quad. Sometimes we would show off by leapfrogging over them, a
moderately hazardous trick. One boy didn't quite clear.

The bell rang, and we formed a somber circle around the
crash site. I don't know how we all found out; nobody remembered being
told. It was as if we were all notified by an invisible pain wave that
shot out in all directions from the gym, penetrating walls and
triggering some primitive receptor in the brain.

Had the same collision happened to a girl, it would of
course been incredibly painful as well. But it was less likely to happen
to a girl, because girls are smarter than that. Or perhaps they just
have less testosterone.

Funny that the high levels of testosterone in pubescent boys
may contribute to behaviors that put at risk the very producers of
testosterone. But not that funny.

Testosterone, the only hormone blamed for violent crime and
world wars, is largely responsible for what makes men men. Love my
gender, love my testosterone. Women produce a little bit themselves, and
sometimes they're injected with testosterone as part of certain types
of menopause therapy. Where does that extra supply of testosterone come
from? I don't even want to think about it.

Testicles come in various sizes. Typically one is a tad
larger, and most often it's the one on the left (from the owner's
perspective). There's no real advantage to slightly larger ones, but men
so-equipped always seem to drop little hints to make sure people know
about them, as if to advertise their supposedly enhanced virility. The
really big ones are more trouble than they're worth, take it from me.

Whatever the size, most men are keenly interested in keeping
them. Hopefully they're doing self-examinations to guard against
testicular cancer, the most common cancer in young men. This is the
cancer that Lance Armstrong recovered from, so if you want to be a big
athlete like him you better start fondling your balls. I'd tell you how,
but I'm shy. Ask a doctor or at least check a few sites about it
online.

So far we've talked about two of the three main things testicles produce: Testosterone and pain. Now let's talk about sperm.

The family jewels produce several hundred million sperm each
day. At 60 microns each, stretch them out and lay them end to end and
you've got 100 miles of sperm. How exhausting! No wonder men need to sit
around and watch sports.

It takes about two months to produce sperm in the testicle,
after which it's shipped off to a storage tank called the vas deferens,
where a famous scene from Woody Allen's Everything You Always Wanted To
Know About Sex was filmed. (The sperm were lined up and waiting like
paratroopers… Funny stuff.) From there, they await their destiny. If
they're scheduled for departure, they are mixed with fluid from the
prostate and whoosh! Another attempt at procreation.

Clearly, the odds are against any individual spermatozoa
passing along the genetic code, but their sheer numbers and dedication
to the cause frequently cause at least one to make its way to an egg,
whether you want it to or not.

The most reliable method of preventing pregnancy is to lock
yourself in a tower. Those who cannot afford a tower (or are restricted
by building codes), and are certain they don't want to have children,
can opt for a vasectomy, one of the easiest surgeries in the world to
put off.

The procedure is short, about as painful as filling a
cavity, and is performed under local anesthetic. All that they do is cut
a little slit in the scrotum to get to the tubes leading out from the
testes, which they snip and tie off. Still, it's hard to relax and enjoy
the doctor's jokes ("Do you come here often?").

The patient doesn't limp out to a new life of harem
guarding, nor does he pick up a new career as the church soprano. After a
few days of walking funny, the patient is exactly the same as before,
except he's infertile, which is not the same thing as impotent.

"Does anything, you know, come out?" you may ask in your coy
way. The answer is yes, because the sperm was just a tiny part of the
overall payload.

Balls. It's been said that Hitler had just one. There's also
a story from the Ninth Century about a Pope John, who was really a Pope
Joan, who had none, which wasn't discovered for over two years.
Thereafter, the story goes, Popes had to reveal the source of their mojo
before taking the job. It may not be true, but it's still a good story.
And good stories from the Ninth Century are hard to come by.